


Said and Done

by mezzo_cammin



Category: Dawson's Creek, Thoughtcrimes (2003)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-22
Updated: 2011-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-18 11:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mezzo_cammin/pseuds/mezzo_cammin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to the last drabble in 'Unsaid' - Vincent treats Brendan like he's fragile, after the accident.  Brendan shows Vincent that he's wrong. Very wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Said and Done

"Oh, God, Brendan, please, you have to, God, please, please -" Vincent's voice breaks and he chokes on the words. They're on the bed, and Brendan's head is in his lap, his red lips stretched wide over the head of Vincent's cock, his cheeks hollowed out as he suckles a drop of precome from Vincent's slit. Brendan looks completely blissed out and Vincent can't take his eyes off him.

Actually, Vincent's been having a really hard time letting Brendan out of his sight ever since he got home from the hospital. Brendan puts up with the hovering, rolling his eyes when Vincent takes it too far. He seems to understand that Vincent is freaking out. Vincent is pretty sure that Brendan doesn't understand why, though, and he's okay with that, too. It's hard for him to put into words. He just knows that what happened - seeing Brendan lying there, bleeding, broken, maybe even dying - made him realize, soul-deep, that forever wasn't going to be long enough.

This is it. Brendan is it for him. All she wrote, end of story. Vincent is in over his head, and he's scared to death he's in it alone. He thinks a guy should be allowed to freak out a little over something like that, right?

Wrong.

Brendan seems to think Vincent has had enough time to deal, and he is not, he tells Vincent, using that soft, dangerous tone that Vincent knows to take seriously, going to break in half if Vincent fucks him. He very much wants Vincent to fuck him, Brendan says, as he dabs on the cherry-red lipstick and smiles smugly at Vincent's reaction. If he has to tie Vincent to the bed and ride his cock like a fucking bronco, that's what he'll do, Brendan says, as he shimmies into the ivory lace camisole and smooths it over his chest, leaving the rest of his long, lean body a feast for Vincent's hungry eyes.

Oh, yeah, Brendan has Vincent's attention all right.

Brendan toys with Vincent, bringing him right to the brink of orgasm before pulling off and lavishing his attentions elsewhere, on Vincent's lips, his throat, the increasingly taut curve of his shoulders. Every now and then, he checks that the silk ties he used to bind Vincent's arms to the bedposts aren't chafing his wrists or coming loose. When Brendan does that, he leans up and over Vincent's body, and his cock brushes against Vincent's nipples. Vincent bends his head down as far as he can reach, desperate to put his mouth on Brendan, but Brendan's dick remains tantalizingly out of reach.

Vincent watches as Brendan prepares himself for his cock, his long fingers slick with lube, reaching back with his right hand, steadying himself with his left hand on Vincent's shoulder. Brendan grunts and moans and shudders, his head thrown back to expose the long line of his throat, and he's working his fingers back there, making soft, wet, sucking sounds that have Vincent thumping his head back against the headboard, hard.

Finally, Brendan is done, and he squirts more lube on his palm, takes Vincent's shaft in his hand, and slides down so he can suck the very tip of it in his mouth. Vincent's whole body jerks in reaction. He's on overload, his circuits are fried, and he starts babbling, pleading with Brendan to let him come, God, Brendan, please, please, but those plaintive words echo in his mind, and he flashes back to the sidewalk, to the smell of wet asphalt and Brendan's blood, the sound of sirens and Freya's frantic voice. Vincent starts hyperventilating, tries to swallow the panic that is rising in his chest, clogging his throat, and his erection is suddenly gone, leaving Brendan with a mouthful of softened dick.

"Damn it to fucking hell!" Brendan explodes. He digs his fingers into Vincent's thighs and levers himself up, glaring. Whatever emotion he sees in Vincent's eyes, though, instantly takes the fierceness out of his expression, and he's reaching over to jerk the knots loose in the ties. As soon as his hands are free, Vincent's arms close around Brendan, tight, tight, and he's swallowing down the panic because Brendan's heart is thundering under his cheek, and he's alive. God.

"Okay," Brendan is saying thickly, "Okay, what the hell just happened here?"

"I -" Vincent can't stop smoothing his hands over Brendan's back, the lace catching on his callused palms and lifting the camisole with each movement. He slides his hands underneath so he can touch Brendan, hot and sweaty and alive. Alive. Vincent starts to shake, fine tremors that start at his spine and travel all the way out his fingers and toes.

"I - guess I had another flashback." Vincent says. He closes his eyes and tries to get his breathing under control. It's ridiculous, he thinks. Brendan was the one who had suffered the accident and come out of it with no broken bones, no deadly hematomas, barely even a scar where his scalp wound had been sutured. Brendan's as healthy as ever. No flashbacks or posttraumatic stress, only a hairline fracture, a concussion, and one messed-up boyfriend. Brendan's been back at work for over a month, now, and Vincent still treats him like he's made out of the finest porcelain. He knows he's driving Brendan crazy, he knows it, and he can't stop himself. It's just - he knows, now, how much Brendan means to him. He's very fucking aware of how much he needs Brendan, and he -

"Look," Brendan blows out a breath and pulls back, forcing Vincent to loosen his grip. Vincent is afraid that Bren will start talking about shrinks and counseling, and he braces himself for that argument, but Brendan just frames his face in his hands and leans forward for a kiss. An exasperated, affectionate kiss that has Vincent's lips soft and clinging before it's over. Only it's not really over, because Brendan kisses him again, slow and sweet, his tongue teasing Vincent's lips open.

"What say we just start over?" Brendan murmurs between kisses, and Vincent nods his agreement, relieved. He can do that. He wants to do that. Yes.

"Tell me what you need, Vince." Brendan runs his hands over Vincent's chest, flicking his nipples until they start to ache a little, until they're standing erect under Brendan's thumbs. Vincent tilts his head to the side and reaches for the hem of Brendan's camisole. Brendan obligingly raises his arms over his head and lets Vincent lift the scrap of lace away.

"I need - this. You," Vincent says, and Brendan kisses him again, this time lush and full, possessive, staking his claim on Vincent's mouth, declaring it his property and his alone, and God, yes, that's what Vincent needs. That. He feels his cock stirring, feels Brendan scoot back on his lap to make room.

"What else?" Brendan has tangled his fingers in Vincent's hair, and he's pulling Vincent's head back a little so he can look in his eyes. "Anything at all, Vincent. Any. Thing. Tell me what you need."

Vincent is aware, viscerally, of exactly what he needs. Right now. He doesn't need to be teased. He doesn't need Brendan to worship his body. He needs Brendan to take over, to take - to take control, take him.

"Like this?" Brendan twists him and turns them so they're lying sideways on the bed, and Vincent realizes he must have spoken his thoughts aloud. Or maybe Brendan read his mind. Either way, he's lying on his back, now, and Brendan's weight is pressing him down into the mattress, and it's perfect. He's hard again, and Brendan is, too, and their cocks are rubbing against each other. Brendan's hands are not gentle or worshipful as they reach around and grab hold of Vincent's ass and pull him closer.

"I'm gonna fuck you," Brendan tells him suddenly, fiercely, and his tone brooks no argument. Vincent nods again and closes his eyes. Yes. This. He wants this.

"I'm not going to wear a condom," Brendan continues, voice pitched low and harsh, as he mouths at the juncture of Vincent's neck and shoulder. "Just once, I want to feel you, not latex. You. So, I'm going to fuck you bareback, Vince. Nothing between us, nothing at all." He moves his mouth up Vincent's neck as he talks, and his teeth are suddenly sharp on Vincent's skin, and he's sucking hard, marking him. Vincent shudders and pushes up against Brendan, tries to throw him off. Brendan locks his forearms over Vincent's shoulders and holds him down, puts all of his weight on him and won't fucking let him move. Yes. Thank God.

"Be. Still." Brendan growls and bites down. Vincent writhes one last time, then gives it up and lies still, unresisting. Brendan's hands are gentling Vincent now, smoothing over his chest, his hips, until his fingers land on Vincent's cock, and Brendan grasps it, tight.

"Look at me, Vincent," Brendan says, and Vincent does. Brendan is sweating, his face red with exertion. His hair is mussed, bangs clinging wetly to his forehead. His eyes are narrowed, the pupils blown. He looks amazing and Vincent's mouth waters. Brendan makes sure Vincent is still looking at him as he slides down Vincent's body and thumbs the head of Vincent's cock, his fingers tight on the shaft, still shiny with lube.

"This," he glances down at Vincent's cock, turgid and red, then back up at Vincent, holding his gaze intently, "is mine."

"Yeah." Vincent nods.

Brendan kisses the tip of Vincent's cock, lightly, and it's a good thing, Vincent thinks, because anything more than that would have him coming all over Brendan's face. Brendan buries his nose behind Vincent's balls and sniffs. Like a feline marking its scent, he rubs his nose over Vincent's balls and his thighs. He starts to lift Vincent's legs over his shoulders, starts to lower his head, but then stops and shifts back onto his knees. Vincent whines, his hands fisting in the sheets.

"Turn over for me," Brendan says softly. He runs his hands up Vincent's thighs and then moves back just enough that Vincent can roll over. Brendan climbs on top of him, his cock hard against Vincent's lower back as he drapes himself over Vincent, hot slide of flesh against flesh. He trails his hands out Vincent's outstretched arms and entwines their fingers.

Brendan's breath is hot in Vincent's ear as he says, "Just like this. I'm going to open your tight hole up with my fingers, Vincent. I'm going to shove my cock in your ass, and you're going to take it. You're going to take every fucking inch of me inside you. Just like this. I'm going to come inside you, Vince. I'm going to fill you up. Now, hand me the goddamn lube." He snaps his fingers once, impatient, and Vincent fumbles for the bottle of slick. He hands it over, and Brendan straddles Vincent's thighs as he starts working his fingers into Vincent's hole, just like he said. He's not gentle, but he's not rough, either. It's exactly what Vincent needs, and he isn't sure how Brendan figured that out, but he's glad, so glad that Brendan gets it. Gets him.

"Now," Brendan says and snubs the head of his dick at Vincent's entrance. He uses his knees to spread Vincent's thighs apart, to make room for himself, and he's guiding his hard cock into Vincent's ass, pushing into him, just like he said, deeper and deeper until he's flush against Vincent, his hands strong on Vincent's shoulders, holding him, making him take it, take all of him. Yes.

"Oh, Jesus," Brendan says, and it's a benediction, not a curse. "Oh, God, Vincent, you. You-"

Vincent feels Brendan's lips between his shoulder blades, pressing soft, reverent kisses to his skin, blowing hot, shaky breaths over Vincent's sweat-slicked muscles. Brendan pulls his cock out, out, then shoves back in, hard, and Vincent gets his knees under him and lifts, and that's it, they're in sync, Brendan pushing himself in, Vincent rising to meet him with each thrust. Brendan is fucking him, faster, harder, deeper, and he's panting, Brendan is, and he's saying Vincent's name, over and over, every time he slams into him.

Vincent's face is buried in his arms. The rest of him is surrounded by Brendan, marked by Brendan's sweat, taken by Brendan's body, his cock, and Vincent needs, he needs-

"Vincent, Vincent, God, baby, I-" Brendan reaches around with his right hand and takes hold of Vincent's cock. Yes. That. Vincent keens and pushes up onto all fours, his neck arching back, Brendan's weight anchoring him, and he is so close, so fucking close... Brendan jerks Vincent hard, using his own sweat to slick his fingers, giving Vincent everything he needs, and then, with one last, desperate shove, Brendan rasps, as if the words are being torn from his throat, "I love you. I fucking love you, Vincent," and Vincent comes. He comes so hard he thinks he actually blacks out, because the next thing he knows, he's lying flat on his back, and Brendan is beside him, his hand over Vincent's heart. Brendan's come is trickling out of Vincent's ass and onto the sheets. Vincent just lies there, quietly taking stock. He feels…wrecked. He feels…weightless. Wiped out, like he could close his eyes and sleep for a week, solid.

"Vince?" Brendan's voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat. He raises himself on his elbow and looks down at Vincent.

"Yeah?" Vincent doesn't think he could move if the house started caving in around him. They'd have to dig his sated, sore ass out of the rubble, he thinks contentedly. Still, he manages to raise an inquiring eyebrow, because Brendan's still poised over him, waiting.

"We okay?" Brendan asks, his mouth hovering over Vincent's, as if he's waiting for permission. Vincent snorts.

"Oh, yeah. 'Baby,'" he smirks, and huffs a laugh when Brendan ducks his chin and smiles sheepishly, "We're good."

He manages to lift his face up just enough to touch his lips to Brendan's, to sigh, "Love you, Bren," and then he's gone, down for the count.

He knows that when he wakes up, Brendan will be right there beside him.


End file.
